Chapter 13: Back into the Swing

Willow awoke the following morning with what could best be described as an emotional hangover. Her feelings had been hitting every extreme over the past week since her return from England, and she was paying for it. Her heart was still heavy from Giles' rejection, and although she had felt better after talking to Spike, she was still feeling pretty blue.

After a shower and a change of clothes, Willow found herself sitting at the kitchen counter, leaning over her steaming mug of tea with her forehead in her hands. I'm not moping, she told herself, I'm meditating.

Her phone started buzzing. It was the Magic Box. Willow hesitated, then picked up.

"Hello?"

"Willow, hello, it's Anya."

Willow rolled her eyes and let her shoulders relax. "Hey, Anya. What's up?"

"I have excellent news. I would like to offer you employment here at the Magic Box."

"Huh? You want me to work at the magic shop?"

"Yes. I don't think you understand what a wonderful opportunity this is. You can make a great deal of money. Well, perhaps not a great deal, but at least the federally-mandated minimum wage."

Willow looked down at her tea, skepticism and suspicion written all over her face. "Anya, why do you want me to work at the shop?"

"Well," Anya admitted, lowering her voice from bubbly to practical, "Giles is out healing from his goring, and I can't possibly work all of the hours required of me if I'm to maintain my vengeance work. I need someone to help around the shop, preferably someone who's familiar with the items we sell and understands that I'll have them tortured and killed if they steal anything."

"Anya," Willow replied, "I've never worked a register in my life. I don't know anything about retail."

Anya's bright saleswoman voice returned. "That's not a problem! I would be more than happy to train you. You could be hawking amulets and incense in no time!"

"Why me?"

"Well, everyone else we know is employed full time, except Dawn, and the government frowns on taking minors out of school to provide labor. You're not doing anything."

Willow shrugged to herself. "You make a fair point." Willow rolled the idea around in her mind. She didn't think she'd mind working at the Magic Box, but what would happen when Giles recovered? Would she continue to work there and have to work alongside him? She could barely imagine seeing him right now, much less having him as her boss.

"Willow," Anya insisted, "say yes."

"If I agree, it's only until Giles gets back on his feet. Deal?"

"Agreed," Anya granted.

"Okay," Willow said doubtfully, "when do I start?"

"I can train you tomorrow! The Saturday crowd is always good for learning very, very quickly."

"Alright, I can do that," Willow agreed.

"Oh, one more thing," Anya added. "If you turn evil again, or put any kind of spell on me, you're fired."

Before Willow could even reply, Anya added, "And no employee discounts."

"Bye, Anya."


Saturday morning dawned grey and rainy. It had been four days since the fight in the cemetery and Giles had not said a word to Willow since he had dismissed her from his house on Thursday. She had vaguely assumed he would eventually contact her in some way, but there had been nothing. Torn between avoiding the issue, respecting Giles' wishes, hating him with all her soul, and missing him desperately, Willow sat there on her bed staring at her phone with the texting app open.

Finally, after typing and deleting several versions of an opening salvo, Willow went with what seemed like a fairly safe option.

[How are you?]

She cradled her phone in her hands for a few minutes, waiting for Giles to reply. Now that she had reached out, surely he would respond and they could at least talk, right?

Buffy shuffled down the hallway, still in her pajamas. "Morning, Wil."

"Hey, Buffy. Um, have you talked to Giles recently? I texted him but he didn't respond."

Buffy scrunched her face into a look of concern and retrieved her phone. After typing for a moment and, a few seconds later, getting a buzz in returned, she replied, "Hrm, I wonder if he's having tech problems with his phone. He got my message, at least. I'm planning to bring him brunch since he's still not much for mobility right now. Wanna come?"

"Oh, no thanks, Buffy. I'm heading to the shop so Anya can train me on the register." In reality, Willow had plenty of time to go visit Giles and was desperate to see him. But if he texted Buffy back right away, it meant that he was avoiding Willow intentionally, and that meant she had better stay away.

"Bummer. No rest for the capitalists, I suppose," Buffy replied.

Willow shrugged. "That's what Anya tells me."

"Good luck register…ing. Retailing? Selling things," Buffy eventually finalized.

"Thanks, I need it," Willow responded. "And tell Giles…" she paused. "Tell Giles I said I hope he feels better soon."

"Will do!" Buffy called, as she turned and headed to the shower.

Willow went back to staring at her phone. If Giles refused to answer her, that was fine. But if he was getting her messages, maybe she could at least communicate with him one-way.

[I wish you'd talk to me. I miss you and I'm worried about you. Please don't shut me out.]

She hit send, then forced herself to put her phone down and get ready for her first day at The Magic Box as an employee.


Across town, Giles stared down at his phone, the screen casting an unnatural glow over his worn face. A pair of tears streaked down his face, and he blinked the rest away. After a moment, he sighed and put down his phone without responding at all.


By Saturday night, Willow was zipping through checkout procedures and feeling pretty solid about working The Magic Box. Although her knowledge of witchcraft and mystical forces was rarely necessary for the work, it was nice to be able to teach budding witches a thing or two as they sought advice. The shop had been pleasantly busy for most of the day, and Willow was grateful for the distraction. Anya had been clear about the "no cell phones" policy for staff, but Willow had snuck a few glances at her phone and knew that Giles hadn't messaged her back. She didn't expect him to, but she had hoped she was wrong.

As the customers were beginning to thin in the minutes before closing time, Buffy popped by.

"Hey, how goes your adventure into commercialism?"

Willow smiled, standing up tall behind the counter. "I've had over 50 transactions today, and I only made a mistake in 15 of them. At least, as far as I know."

Anya zoomed by, replacing stock on the shelves as soon as it was purchased. Her arms were full of crystals and other tchotchkes that had no supernatural value but made the shop a sizeable chunk of its profit. "She's quite adequate for the position," Anya reassured the pair, arranging the items carefully on the front display table.

"You hear that, Buffy? I'm adequate," Willow announced with sarcastic pride.

"I've always said that about you, Wil," Buffy replied.

Trying to sound as casual as possible, Willow pivoted, "Hey, how was Giles this morning?"

Buffy's eyes widened a little and her mouth pulled into a grimace. "To be honest, he's kind of a wreck." Willow felt equal parts concerned and vengefully satisfied. "I mean," Buffy continued, "his wound seems to be healing fine, and he's definitely getting more mobile now, but he just seems to be having a rough time. I don't know the last time he shaved, or showered for that matter. He seemed really distracted and distant, like there was something else going on. I asked him about it but he said there wasn't anything to tell."

"Do you believe him?" Willow asked.

"I don't know. He's always been kind of the 'I can handle it, don't worry about me' type, trying to protect me from knowing too much or having to get involved in council business, stuff like that. But this didn't really feel like that. I wonder if it's personal. Do you know if he still has a thing with Olivia?"

Willow's face contorted painfully for a split second before she was able to smooth out her features. She hadn't considered that Giles might be seeing someone else or maintaining an existing relationship. She wondered if his decision to distance himself from Willow was because there was someone else. Clenching her teeth, she was surprised at how much even the possibility hurt her.

Willow was doing her best impression of the version of herself who wasn't in love with Giles and hadn't fooled around with him in the back room of the very store in which she was now working. "I don't know. I haven't heard anything about her in a while but it's not that he would volunteer that kind of information," she reasoned.

Buffy stared ahead of her, meditating on the issue. "Well, if he won't tell us, we just have to let him figure it out on his own. At least, unless we can beat the information out of him. But until then, we'll wait and see. Maybe he's just having a rougher time with his injury than we realize."

"Maybe," Willow conceded.

The Slayer and the witch switched topics and chatted for a few more minutes, before Anya kicked them both out so she could close up. After some ice cream and reality TV at the house, Willow crawled into bed, surprisingly exhausted after a full day of working at the shop. Pleasantly worn out, she quickly drifted off to sleep.


After working another full day Sunday, Willow was looking forward to a less mercantile Monday schedule. She was set to meet with her former advisor at UC Sunnydale, then Xander was making her lunch back at his place. His primary work site for the time being was only a few blocks from his apartment, so he was treating himself to somewhat leisurely lunches that didn't come out of a can. Willow hadn't talked to Xander after her failed attempt to seek him out a few days earlier, and she wasn't sure if Spike had said anything.

Before lunch, she had to meet with her old advisor. Given that the semester had been underway for a couple of weeks already, Willow wasn't sure what would make sense for her as she prepared to re-enroll. Fortunately, the meeting was quick and relatively straightforward. Willow would be able to enroll for the current semester since the add/drop period hadn't closed, but her advisor wanted her to start with half the normal course load for now. Willow agreed, and immediately signed up for Psych 250 and the Sociology course she had failed the previous spring. Her very first class would meet the following afternoon, shortly after her second appointment with Doctor Gruden.

Her morning errand done with time to spare, Willow decided to take the scenic route to Xander's. As she strolled through the park, she wondered how her lunch would go. Had Spike said anything to Xander? Would she tell Xander what had happened between her and Giles? Would it even make sense to tell him if, in fact, she and Giles weren't, well…anything? Or would it be even more important to tell him because she would have to explain why she and Giles weren't speaking?

The questions swirled around in her head without any clear answers making themselves apparent. Before long, she arrived at Xander's building and knocked at his front door. She had a spare key, but it was good form to knock.

"Come in!" Xander yelled.

Willow opened the door and stepped into the apartment, pulling the door shut behind her. To her surprise, Spike was sitting near the door, putting on his boots.

"Hey, Red," he intoned gruffly.

"Spike, you headed out? Seems kinda sunny for you to be taking a walk," Willow noted.

"Cigarette break. There's a fair bit of shade out back if I time it right." Spike lowered his voice conspiratorially. "As far as Xander's concerned, I don't smoke in here. Far be it from me to fail to keep up appearances, eh?" He stuck a cigarette between his lips and arched his eyebrows at Willow for emphasis.

He stood up, shrugged on his leather duster, and stepped in close to Willow, his body barely an inch from hers. She tensed, looking up at him uncertainly.

He held her gaze for a long moment, then reached just past her and gripped the doorknob. "'Scuse me," he said quietly. Willow stepped backwards, more as a response to the intimacy of his voice than to the nature of his request. Spike slipped past her and out the door.

Willow shook off the unusual encounter and stepped into the kitchen. "Hey, Xander. What's for lunch?"

Xander stood at the oven, peering through the door at the tray of food within. "Well, it's either pizza rolls or takeout. We'll find out in a minute," he replied.

Willow perched on a nearby stool. "How's the work site? What's this one again?"

"Condos," Xander responded. "You know, you'd think people would want to avoid living on the Hellmouth, but they just keep lining up for the privilege."

"We live here," Willow retorted.

"Well yeah, but…" Xander's brows scrunched together. "We…we fight evil. We're here on purpose."

"You go right on telling yourself that," Willow affirmed, her tone playfully mocking. "Face it, Xander. We're Hellmouth townies."

For a moment, he looked disheartened at the revelation, but then the kitchen timer dinged. "Lunch time!" he cried excitedly.


As Xander and Willow jointly washed the few lunch dishes, Spike returned from his leisurely cigarette break. He actually looked a little disappointed to see that he had missed lunch, but Willow shot a glance over at the table, where a napkin with a handful of pizza rolls lay. A look of pleasant surprise washed over the vampire's face before he returned his expression to the fixed coolness he tried to affect at all times. He grabbed the napkin off the table and popped a pizza roll in his mouth.

"Ain't you gotta be heading back to work?" Spike drawled at Xander.

"Listen, Evil Dead," Xander began, then he caught a glimpse of the clock. "Oh, crap." He hurriedly kissed Willow on the cheek, then fled from the apartment. "Bye Wil!"

"Bye!" she called after him, but he had already gone.

Willow finished rinsing off the last plate and placed it in the drying rack next to the sink. Spike shoved the last pizza roll in his mouth, then took out a cigarette and placed it between his lips.

Willow turned and looked at him critically. "Really?"

He shrugged and put the cigarette back in the pack. "Alright, then. So what did I do to deserve pizza rolls?"

"Well, based on my conversation with Xander, you didn't mention anything about me coming over the other day."

Spike replied casually, "I said I wouldn't."

"Yes, you did, and I appreciate that you kept your word."

"Listen, Red, what you do is your business. It's not my job to go spreading your personal stuff all over town. Besides, me telling Xander would require me to talk to Xander. I generally avoid that." Spike sauntered into the living room and plopped down onto the couch.

Willow followed, standing next to the end of the couch furthest from Spike. "Hey, whatever the reason, I'm happy. So, thanks."

"Don't mention it." He clicked on the TV and put on Passions.

"Ooh," Willow exhaled, moving to sit down, "what's been going on with Alistair?"

"That git's been mucking up everything. I've never been a huge fan of Theresa's, but she doesn't deserve this." On screen, an imposing older man shoved a young woman into a bedroom and ripped her dress.

"Oh, god," Willow cried in dismay. "What's he going to do? He's not going to…he wouldn't, right? I know he's bad, but…"

She looked over at Spike and noticed that his demeanor had changed. The fingers on his right hand gripped the arm of the sofa tightly. His jaw was set in a severe line, and he seemed to be staring through the TV rather than at it.

"Spike, are you okay?" Willow leaned a little closer, worry creeping up into her face. Spike didn't move or respond.

Willow reached over and touched Spike's elbow. Her touch jolted him and he jerked his arm away from her, meeting Willow's stare. His eyes were wild, with deep sadness behind them.

"Spike, what…?" She had no idea what was going on and Spike's distress was making her worry.

Barely audible, Spike muttered, "You should go."

Willow furrowed her brow. "Why, what –"

"Please," Spike urged, his voice thick with pain.

Taken aback by the abrupt change in him and his earnest pleading, Willow stood and turned to leave. A few steps away, she stopped herself, then turned around and went back to stand in front of Spike.

"Listen," she said, "I know we're not exactly best friends, and if you want me to leave, I will. But the other day, you listened to me and helped me feel better when I thought it wasn't possible. You can talk to me, if you want."

Spike stared in the direction of the TV and said nothing.

Willow grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. That finally made Spike look up at her.

"What is your deal, Spike?" Willow asked, concern mixing with confusion in her voice.

Spike held her gaze for a long moment. Willow was sure he wasn't going to say anything, but after a long pause, he said, "You know, I knew that when I got my soul back, I'd have to deal with what I had done."

He paused. Willow sat down next to him on the couch. "I knew," he continued, "that I'd feel guilty about all the rotten things I'd done over the last 150 or so years. But it had been so long since I felt guilt or remorse that I wasn't really prepared for it."

As he spoke, Spike's mind flicked through the images of the suffering he'd caused in his life as a vampire. Mostly, however, his thoughts went back to him on top of the Slayer in her bathroom.

"Oh," Willow replied. "I can imagine how difficult it must be to try to process all of that at once."

Spike let out a derisive snort. "Yeah, 'difficult', right."

Willow curled her legs underneath her on the couch and turned to face Spike fully. "But…you seem to be doing mostly okay."

Spike laughed mirthlessly and said, "Well I've got you fooled, then. Every night, I wake up and think that maybe this'll be the night I leave. Maybe I'll skip town, no goodbyes, just me and the highway. I could go anywhere."

"Well yeah, but guilt isn't limited to one place. If you went somewhere else, it would just follow you."

"You're right, I 'spose, but I still feel like running. The only reason I don't is because there's a chance that Buffy might need me. That someday I might be able to make it up to her. It'll never be enough, o' course, but it paints a pretty picture."

"You're still in love with Buffy?" Willow asked.

Spike laughed again. "Not that it counts for anything, but yeah. But I'm not stupid enough anymore to think that anything will ever come of it. I'm just a lovesick pup and she's too kind to put me out of my misery."

"I don't suppose that in your many decades of existence you've figured out how to stop loving someone," Willow wondered.

"I ain't found the secret yet," Spike replied, putting a cigarette in his mouth, more out of habit than anything.

"Well, if you figure it out, let me know."

"Come on, Red, you're not still hung up on the Watcher, are you? I mean, I know you appreciate the bookish types, but you're young and beautiful. You could have any bloke you wanted. Or any girl, for that matter."

Willow felt oddly pleased by Spike's assessment of her. "Yeah, but I don't want just anyone."

Spike's eyes stared wistfully off at the black TV screen. "I know what you mean." He discarded his unlit cigarette absentmindedly.

Willow cast her eyes down at her hands in her lap. She was feeling alone, rejected, cast aside. "When I first realized that Giles had feelings for me, I felt like I was finally anchored somewhere. Like my feet were on the ground and I was okay. Now, I'm just…adrift. I feel like I'm floating around."

"If you look at it another way, that means you're free. You could do whatever you wanted. You're not tied down." Spike and Willow recognized the double entendre at the same time, causing the vampire to smirk and the witch to blush.

"I don't know what I want," Willow sighed, "well, besides…" She let her voice trail off, not willing to finish that thought.

"Besides what?" Spike cocked his head to the side and turned to face Willow.

Willow shot a significant glance at Spike and recreated his rude gesture from the other day, her finger poking through a circle formed by her other hand.

"Oh, you were serious? You and Giles never, uh…sealed the deal?"

Willow just shrugged and avoided Spike's eyes. "And now we won't. He won't even text me back. I don't know if he's ever going to talk to me again." Her voice broke and she swallowed, trying not to cry.

Spike's spine stiffened as he sensed the girl becoming upset. Slightly spooked, he leaned over and laid a gentle kiss on Willow's forehead. She jerk up, startled. "What was that for?" she asked.

"I hate seeing a girl upset over an idiot. Which Giles clearly is, since anyone would be lucky to be with you."

Willow's expression softened. She had seen Spike's sensitive side before, but he was really endearing himself to her with his tenderness. He still had pieces of his human self in there, somewhere.

"Thanks, William."

Spike looked into Willow's eyes, startled. She had never used his human name before. He liked the way she said it. He found himself wanting to kiss her again.

He moved closer to Willow. His voice barely a whisper, he said, "Call me that again."

Willow's body tensed. She felt something coming off of him, just as she had when he had brushed past her on his way out earlier that day. She wanted to be closer to him.

"William." She brought her hand up to his face. Before she could touch his cheek, he snatched her wrist. In the same moment, he moved towards her, capturing her mouth with his. While their words might have been gentle and measured, their kiss was not. Spike pressed himself into Willow, wrapping his arms fully around her. Willow's hands wound around his shoulders, feeling the muscles bulging underneath his black t-shirt.

"This is bloody stupid," Spike groaned as he buried his face in Willow's neck and kissed her all over.

"Extremely," Willow agreed, untucking her legs so she could wrap them around the vampire. She knew his skin would be colder than a human's, but it still surprised her to feel the relative coolness of his lips on her warm flesh. She pulled Spike towards her, wanting him closer, closer.

Lying back on the couch, Willow put her hands on the back of Spike's head to draw him into a deep kiss. He obliged, then grasped both of Willow's wrists in one hand and shoved her arms over her head, pressing them into the seat of the couch. He was fully on top of her them, her legs around his waist and her dress riding up to her hips. She arched her back, cooing softly. Spike growled, a hint of the demon simmering below the surface.

Spike released Willow's wrists and she used one arm to push against the back of the sofa, causing the pair to roll onto the floor with a thud. Ignoring the ache of the fall, Willow pulled Spike's shirt over his head and threw it across the room. Cradling his neck in one hand and exploring his torso with the other, she elicited a groan of enjoyment from him. Her mouth tasted his chest, his neck, and eventually found its way to an earlobe.

"Oh, fuck you," Spike growled, equal parts delighted and rueful that he had admitted his weakness to the witch.

"That's the idea," Willow replied, grinding down onto Spike's pelvis. She surprised even herself with her licentiousness, but she was brimming with backlogged sexual energy. After the pain of Giles' rejection, Willow was intensely aroused by the simple fact that Spike wanted her. It was the textbook definition of a rebound, but she didn't care.

Even through his jeans, it was clear he was ready for her. Spike reached up and pulled Willow's dress over her head, revealing a pair of small, perky breasts unencumbered by a bra. He sat up and dipped his head down, tasting her nipples, which stood at full attention.

Willow let out a soft moan, grinding into him more eagerly. The vampire flipped them over again, Willow with her back on the floor and Spike alongside her, leaning over her. With one hand, he pulled her underwear down to her knees, then began teasing her. His fingertips lightly grazed her thighs, her hips, her small tuft of pubic hair, but he refused to go further.

"Spike," she whined.

"No," he replied firmly. "Not that name."

Willow looked up into his eyes. "William," she breathed. "William, please."

He obliged her, running a single finger between her wet lips, delicately stroking her clit. She arched her back and inhaled sharply, an involuntary moan escaping her lips. He increased his pressure and pace little by little, drawing gasps and groans from the witch. As she writhed below him, he watched her intently, savoring the sight before him.

He pulled his hand away and received a groan in return. "Patience, pet," he replied, "it's not time yet."

He stood and removed the rest of his clothing, revealing a muscular body and a sizeable cock. Willow greedily drank in the sight of him. Rising to her knees, she moved her mouth to him, licking and sucking him eagerly. He grunted her name, knowing that he was already getting close to the edge. He worked his fingers into her hair and, with some reluctance, gently pulled her away.

Spike sat down on the couch and crooked his finger at Willow, pulling her to him. He brought her onto his lap, then positioned her over his throbbing erection. She sank slowly, taking all of him. Jolts of electricity shot through her as she burned from the inside. It would not be long now.

She gripped Spike's shoulders and pulled him close to her. Her nails dug into his flesh and he grunted in pain, but she didn't care. They began to move faster and faster, the urgency rising. Feeling as though she would burst, she whispered, "William," and that was all it took. She could feel Spike coming inside her and she fell over the edge herself, writhing atop him as the sensation traveled throughout her body.

Willow's face rested in the crook of Spike's neck as they came down together. After a moment, she sat up, caressed his face tenderly for an instant, then got up and went into the bathroom to get cleaned up. When she came out, Spike was already dressed and had gathered up Willow's clothes for her. She accepted them with a smile and began to put them back on.

Spike stood in the middle of the room awkwardly, his hands shoved in the back pockets of his jeans. "Hey, uh," he began, "so…"

Willow smiled affectionately and waved her hand in the air as if shooing away a fly. "Yeah, I know, just between us, one-time thing, never again. I know."

Spike pressed his lips into a line. "Yeah." After a moment, he said, "But, you know, I still respect you. I don't want you to think that I think any less of you or anything."

Willow laughed. "Don't worry, Spike, I'm fine. Are you fine?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

"Okay, good. I'm going to head home." Willow grabbed her bag and headed for the door, smoothing her hair away from her face. "Thanks." She paused. "William."

Spike smiled at her as she walked out the door.